Please don't worry about me
by MarthaBug0192
Summary: 2 months after the particle accelerator explosion, Cisco wakes up from his coma to be greeted by Professor Wells, and learns what it's like to be cared for. Eobard thawne suppresses feelings, Cisco fluff, self- deprecation, worrying too much, sickfic, flashbacks of childhood physical and emotional abuse, mentions of Hartley and Cisco's family. Can update if people want more.


Harry wheeled past the curtain into the Infirmary. He placed a full basin onto the cart beside the bed, and stared at the bed. Gently tucked underneath the blankets, was the young man who has fulfilled the role of his son. A daunting, often excruciating - or what will become fatal - task, but Cisco was enjoying it by all means. Even if it was just feeling a large hand pry underneath his oxygen cannula to stroke his cheek, and hearing the occasional shuffling and voices that were completely out of context.

As if he enjoyed the same control that Eobard did, a unique sense of control, a security that Eobard forces himself to not recognize, because that is not part of the plan.

Cisco's chest just barely rose and fell from underneath the Star Labs sweater that was a size too big for him. He was stable enough to be merely asleep, with his head slightly propped to the side. Foot twitching or toes curling every few minutes to release the energy that Harry has to suppress for what feels like eternity.

Harry approached the bed. He couldn't even feel the many bumps his wheelchair ran over, poor Cisco has been hooked up to his heart monitors and oxygen for 73 24-hour years too many. Eventually things would be alright, the future has hard proof of that. Eobard and Harry may as well get used to waiting for a coma to end.

"Cisco," he whispered. "Hey.''

Cisco's eyes fluttered, and then he drifted back into his comatose sleep.

"Oh, buddy." The word that'd become ingrained so deep into Cisco's mind he would start using it in place of amigo and wouldn't know why. In the future that would soon affect a certain Barry Allen as well.

He grabbed the younger one's hand. He wouldn't squeeze too hard, just massage the soft flesh of the little palm, as his thumb caressed the smaller knuckles. The boy, despite his antics and agreeably unprofessional attire, has proven himself. These hands have calloused themselves with more than Eobard has ever learned, and have opened up to everything Eobard could have done if he'd chosen to. To make up for everything Cisco has missed during his crucial years. Nibbling at every opportunity for recognition and acceptance like a little pet fish that gets fed every few 24-hour "years" of its little life.

But that's not how this works oh, he has to remember.

Cisco still faintly smelled of lotion that he'd gotten during his bath that morning. It overwhelmed the Neosporin and lubrication that was slathered generously around Cisco's NG Tube. Along his belly which was grazed with tubes, and his inflamed catheterization, and even the tiny cuts between his toes that he has allowed himself to acquire and ignore during the attempts to appease Harry. Really, Harry was taking advantage of resources. The overstuffed bag Hartley had donated during his termination had many options.

And, unlike Hartley, Harry was sure of Cisco's potential. The matter from the accelerator was almost magnetic underneath Cisco's fingertips. The big heart underneath the monitor pads was dreaming, the entire future of team Flash and his own fate. The things he did not gradually forget, he would disregard as a Sci-Fi junkie dream and move along. To follow his father figure in search of unconditional love and submission, to help everyone in his wake despite nearly choking on his fear and pain, because that's just how things work.

Sometimes the sparkling chubby face was so good at making Eobard reconsider everything he was going to do to Barry Allen. Cisco's innocence spread as strongly as his ability to be used. But Eobard and innocence didn't go together.

But things don't last forever. That is not how it works. He has places to be. He would have centuries to get over it.

Centuries would never allow him forget this.

" Professor… Wells…?"

Cisco fluttered into reality. His chocolate eyes batting away groggy cheers, as a newborn would when grabbing the entire world for the first time. Furrowing in concern, with many dimples lighting up his face.

Harry would have to choose his next words wisely. He patted the back of Cisco's hand with his other hand, business-friendly. His wrinkles burned when his smile pulled them too hard. "Hey Ramon."

"Wells…" Cisco's blurred eyes gave the man a quick rundown to realize where he was sitting. The wheelchair.

"Wells-" Cisco would have started propping himself onto his elbows. But this was not his room. It was barely even his own body, numb and sunken into the bed.

Harry let go of his hand to find the corners of the rolled blanket, tucking him in for what was the hundredth, but not enough, time.

"What happened to you?" The paralyzing beams and the headache is all Cisco can remember. The ticking and the odd banging that resonated through the walls of the lab, before the light shook everything and threw him to the ground. A cling against metal and a massive headache that made his eyes surrender. And now, here. He was safe in a bed, Wells was in a chair. No cast, no braces, no fatigued but gradual moving, no moving at all.

Harry hushed Cisco. "I'm here to check on you. I'm fine, see, perfectly fine. You aren't."

"Don't worry about me. I think… I just need some more rest."

Harry did another round of hushing but this time was a little less aggressive. Cisco would stop asking, and he would pretend as if nothing was wrong - two things he's been taught to do very well.

Cisco broke out with a tingly blush, with a light chuckle, because he did not deserve this but here they were anyway. Regardless of what was going on (mild concussion prior to unconsciousness?) he knew things were okay for the moment. His best friend was here, really his only friend, with a " my U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701 Special Edition is finally here - and the mailman didn't drop it " smile plastered on his face. For some reason, the man was staying and wasn't making excuses to leave or starting to blame Cisco for whatever injuries he has acquired from whatever just happened.

Cisco swallowed and looked down. He sighed out an apology. He had been weak when they needed him most, and all of the good time Cisco should have had on his side was instead spent drinking up attention and precious time away from the research. For all he knows, whatever the shrap happened could have been a result of his faulty work. And for some reason Hartley wasn't quizzing him yet as usual,.

"No, no-" Harry rasped. He cupped Cisco's warm face. His fingers stroked the long silky hair before tucking it behind Cisco's ear.

Cisco's chin dipped down into his neck, trying to hide his geeky smile. Of course Professor Wells was not the kind to yell and was rather a fan of combined dry and blatant insults. And possibly, he'd never pull off his copper encrusted belt- was he even wearing one and would it even be that fashionable or rough? Was his waist even flexible enough for him to pull back then swing- never mind, assuming and exploiting a disability (or a wheelchair binding injury) is a one way ticket to hell. But, Wells… he was calm. No prerequisite. No warming up, or rationalizing the punishment for this.

Laying around without so much as a glance towards priorities for more than a week is enough to make anyone a worthless case. Two months? Selfish, destructive to say the least. He can remember that even Dante, who could rarely do wrong, has been guilty of this multiple times before. He can remember being demanded by Mama to stop ignoring the piano teacher who drove three hours to get there, and to ignore the cries from the couch. But Cisco wasn't stupid. His cool high school brother was literally glued onto the couch with sweat and diarrhea, dropping Mama's phone as his first boss repeated that he was fired after only three short years, making excuses over his Papa's demands that he pick things up and continue being the boy they are so proud of. The boy who once played at Carnegie Hall for Christ's sake….. All those times Cisco would make himself invisible behind blankets and the bunk rail, trying to ignore the entire bed being shaken as Mama cried, "Dante, levantarse de la cama! You can't be perezoso like Cisco up there or you'll be too late to get your part!" And you know what'll happen if Papa comes home and finds out.

Don't get Cisco wrong. He's gotten his fair share as well, enough to know what he was seeing on Harry's face. The " my Slugger made it, and here he is " smile. The best kind of smile. And he wasn't pulling a Gatsby, he was sure. Believe it or not, Cisco does remember that time where he, believe it or not, messed with Hector's guitar and plucked something in the tune of the song he'd heard echo through the house millions of times a day. It hasn't been professional, but definitely interested and well-intended, and… Mama and Tia went agape with excitement, Mama crying out for Papa as he was already running into the living room. And all those hours Cisco spent, running clamored fingers over that inherited guitar, imagining watching those big smiles glistening from the front row of the school Auditorium. For what it was worth, he never got his chance to earn them due to Papa incessantly demanding that Dante's group not get removed from the talent show. But Cisco does remember what the smiles looked like, how they felt, feeling the same burning in his face as he couldn't help but grin back and blush.

Now he has earned it.

"You're strong, Cisco." Eobard meant it, though it was easier to continue being manipulative and ignore how adorable and somehow as liberated Cisco was. "You're my guy.''

Cisco was strong. Somebody else's opinion included him actually meaning something. Dr. Wells was happy, even proud with no explanation other than that Cisco has made it through. Of course there were things Wells would never understand because Cisco could never explain, but all those insignificant dreams he would selfishly promote as traumatic despite slowly forgetting them... the stabbing pins and needles… barely being able to move his legs, having his hand crushed by fatigue whenever he tried to wrap his fingers between Wells'... Dr. Wells would try to understand. He wouldn't need to because reasons wouldn't make him any less concerned. But what about the others?

Cisco attempted getting up to his elbows but fell back. He furrowed his eyebrows. At least as far as his tired face would go, no expectations.

" What about the research? Accelerator? Who is...?"

"The particle accelerator project is done." Of course for other reasons than its destruction, but Cisco would know soon enough. Harry's voice was raspier. "I had to let some of them go. Most of them, actually. The rest resigned." He gave Cisco's hair a few more strokes, pretending to not notice how wet the boy's hairline was becoming. A fresh tear seeped into the creases of Harry's palm…

Within just hours of Cisco's first day with Star Labs, he remembers not only being impressed but seeing Harry- Dr. Wells- as his hero. The first policy of the workplace, as stated strictly, no harassment or even reliable claims of it would be permitted. Sure, Heartless Rathaway was a challenge, at the time being the most expensive loss due to his specifications, but after a while even Dr. Wells had to confront him for things getting way out of hand. Primarily to protect Cisco, and there was nothing Cisco could say or do to convince Wells he didn't have to.

Sometimes it was too much, Cisco had to admit, the obnoxious superiority and how Hartley somehow knew exactly how to trigger a guy within 10 seconds for no reason. A majority of it was definitely on Cisco. All of his stupid quips nobody cares about. All the pointless complaints on his bad days, about how he twisted his ankle that morning while trying to avoid stepping on his Montoya action figure that his drunken self previously lost among the piles of Big Belly Burger wrappers and molding food in the back of his smart car. When the DS his abuela had gifted to him had been confiscated by the school, all because the teacher asked what was in his mouth and he pulled out the destroyed stylus to reveal a mutilated Bulbasaur, and please forget the other four times that happened. Every time someone says something backwards trying to collect their thoughts and he imitates Yoda. No one cares about what you saw in the middle of the street last night, nobody knows what ROUSs are, it's time to stop.

And no matter how confused he could feel towards his mama, she was right yet again during all of those coming-of-age conversations. "Francisco, I have told you many times before." As she smeared another one of her favorite kitchen rags all over his bloody nose and mouth. "And this is why. They're going to hurt you unless you do what you are told and have control over yourself. Jake is only trying to help you, he stays after school for you, he wastes his lunch time for you, you need to listen. What's going to become when me and your Padre are not here to help you? I'm sorry, churrito. I truly am, but this is not how you act. You will never have a Novia, and how will Padre feel, how will this entire Familia ever function if you have no future but to sit yourself at that screen and ignore your potential? You do have potential. We've worked hard, we've spent thousands for you, we have been here despite it all. It hurts to see you hurt, it hurts me far worse than it hurts you, however at this point I cannot help you. You are too old for this and you are too old for us to send you away to help you. I suggest you start listening."

The belts, especially that copper encrusted white belt, and occasionally Mama's garlic press or fly swatter, were right. So was Jake Puckett accidentally busting his lip on the toilet or pulling his hair out by flushing a few too many times.

Cisco got them fired. The most productive physicist on the team. The respectable doctor and possibly her fiance who were saving up to get married and start something new. All down to the janitor who would laugh if Cisco slipped or even tripped over the wet floor sign whenever it was up, however Cisco knew he didn't mean it that way and couldn't control his laughter and would always help Cisco up.

Professor Wells and the entire Infirmary became fuzzy as Cisco welled up more.

Harry cupped Cisco's hot, reddened cheek and began to rub. He continued, to break the silence, " Caitlin, Dr. Snow has been helping me with a majority of the research. And figuring out what happened to you."

The tears burst out. Cisco sniffled between quiet hiccups. Wishing he could tuck his face away and turn around. Hide. He hasn't chased Caitlin away, and especially not Professor Wells, and how he hasn't done so yet he's not sure. But that doesn't mean they need to be caring for him. He hasn't deserved it, he genuinely can't remember a time where he's lifted a finger for them when it wasn't part of his job, or when there was something exciting in it for him. The past entire year, excluding the previous two months, he's been told what to do. He still hasn't even learned how to clock in and out of work, without hearing the voice of his Superior yelling from the bunker and, a surprising amount of times, from the parking lot. Without needing Hartley to insult him to remind him how things work. I

Exactly how things were back then. When Cisco would sit looming over his new computer after speed building it, trying to figure out what was missing. Trying to bide time to work on it just a little bit more before he had to hurry and shove it all in the closet. Because Papa came home at 8, right when Cisco was supposed to be in bed. After having so many models but never actually owning a computer, maybe it's best to learn nothing and follow others. Even if Star Labs was able to prove that wrong, Cisco just worked harder for each mistake, or at least that's what he wants to tell himself.

Wells loomed over him, with no benefit of his own, with no intention to leave soon. And all Cisco could think about was trying to get him to leave. Make him realize it wasn't worth its time. Cisco has taken enough and he would be Mucho Bueno.

More than Bueno he would soon realize.

Professor Wells was holding both sides of the boy's face. Squeezing lightly with his large thumbs, not caring that they were going to stick and get really nasty. His fingers played with Cisco's hair as they combed every strand away. Cisco is so beautiful, extraordinarily beautiful when he cries. Eobard actually feels bad.

"Do you know how happy I am to see you right now? We were so worried. We didn't know what would happen to you-"

He's run away. He's had to stay in the hospital a couple of times. He's threatened to leave his parents' control as well as leave his brother alone with them. He's threatened to abandon Jake and his friends and leave schools. Even when he fell through with his plans, temporary or not, he was never missed. When he surfaced in exactly three after moving out, he was more dead than Casper to them. Once they realized his worth, they weren't going to lose anything and it wasn't going to matter what happened to him.

The man's eyes glistened from behind his glasses. Cisco wiggled the numbness out of his hand to place it on Wells', wincing at the burning of his IV. Needles were definitely not his thing, and this was one of the more questionable situations where he could have done without it. Particularly now, as Professor Wells rolled closer to the utility cart, grabbed two blue rags and dipped them into a basin of water. Humming to himself as his whitening hands wrung the cold rags.

Cisco has had this before, assuming this was for his face. He can't really remember how it feels when sick since it's been so long so he braced himself for the paralyzing cold of Mama's kitchen rags. His chin trembled and he full well knew that this was not in his luck.

"Here you go, Cisco." Harry folded a rag and, after stroking Cisco's hair out of the way, placed it on Cisco's forehead. He struggled to hold back a smile when Cisco draped his eyelids and muttered dots when the other rag, he patted Cisco's blotted cheeks, taking down the tears before they left Cisco's eyes.

Cisco looked down in relief when Wells pulled the cloth away to fold it and it hadn't been ruined.

"You know,'' Cisco said with a tired drawl in his voice, "there are other things you should be doing right now."

"But I'm here." Usually this would be sarcastic, passive aggressive.

Cisco got a large twist through his entire digestive tract. Not butterflies. Definitely not morbid guilt, and not because the feeling of guilt was an excuse for regretting getting caught and punished. But because there was nothing to be sorry for. He was being treated, even if Wells couldn't realize he didn't deserve it or need it. Wells chose to be here. Wells thought Cisco deserved it and needed it.

"You're going to be weak for a few days. You're probably going to get some nosebleeds and tremors and fatigue and I recommend you stay in bed. We will take care of everything else."

Harry gently wiped Cisco's nose before putting the rag on the cart. He reached above Cisco's head to pull the corded thermometer out and clip a cover on to it.

"But..''

" Let's have your temperature taken before Snow comes in."

Cisco can remember this. His abuela always used those mercury thermometers and swore by them, up until Cisco was 17 and she gifted Hector with a set of baby care items and ended up receiving a digital thermometer back since they already had two of them, and that was the end of it. The first time as with every other time, it was much more comfortable under the tongue, Abuela was so satisfied.

Cisco opened his mouth. Professor Wells slipped the thermometer underneath his tongue, as gently as Abuela would do it. Wells was hovered over with a smile, and not a friendly service " I'm sorry for what you're going through " smile - but a " my son is playing at Carnegie, my son's going to be eligible for the scholarship for the job for the appreciation and get recognized for what he's worth, any illness cannot stop him as long as we do what we can". And Cisco was worth Harrison Wells' time.

Harry pulled the thermometer out. Exactly 100 degrees F. "You're doing exceptionally better, Cisco. When Dr. Snow gets here, I'll tell her you're awake and she's going to do vitals and further check-up. I will be right here" - as he grabbed Cisco's IVed between his warm hands - "and expect me to be here even after she is done. As for you, Cisco, you will stay in this bed until a week from now."

It would be a week worth it. It would be a week until Cisco could fully open his eyes again. And Eobard he's going to have to kill this kid someday soon here. He can't admit that it'll most likely be because he's selfish, he's impulsive, and the kid is just too good for him.


End file.
